Chapbooks are available for purchase at the sweet lozey store, along with other goodies.

New Chapbook

Coming soon.

Check back for details and new poetry.

snow

movements of gods

published on Cognito, June 2007

because of the way it is related to war
particularly the part of the ocean
to come out of the jangling with the
hubbub of a riddle which is now virtually
the troop's book on massacre
much the way that

people are almost at will are disorganized
and understandably so
utterly surprised when they sense
infinite loss among the
frenzy of evil clearly delineated in the
rattled lives of men
unarmed though their lives first portrayed by
the sky like a tiny, insignificant encounter

all crack fretful about how historians
describe a few mean drops who are lined up
in an assortment of wild which
seemed a second picture done of
festering horrors
a bit more of a fight___ but the silent figures stood
running

the incident began when the enemy
was seen resisting the domain in a
manner of overwhelming odds but not
dispersing not even in which sound holds
light infantry...let view this history

give the boys who thought after all
other pictures from the fat fish
__________oh all right
praying for a moment
notwithstanding all saddness
in the__ deep snow formation noise that
was reprinted on the wall of movements

evidence he ever did so as he turned north
he got it________he felt almost frantic

in case of fire

the value of birds

i fully intended to write a poem
today about sleep deprivation
and impossible deadlines

but, a dollar bill appeared in my path
in the cold foggy haze of morning
as winter transitions into spring

i folded the dollar and
tucked it into a pocket
for safekeeping

two birds, dappled grey and blue
sought comfort in the branches
of an overgrown bush

is one dollar in
the pocket worth
two birds in the bush?

i stood on the sidewalk and
questioned the value of the
slip of paper in my pocket

and the value of the birds

peace

a vintage set

old men sit hunched on the curb
and play mahjongg in front of
The Dragon's Teeth
they hold their cigarettes
pinched between
something or other with fizz

between the sounds of tiles
and slashing punk rock guitar riffs
they chatter excitedly about how four
heroes stormed the Pagoda of Flowers

the mailman plays before
dinner - learning the ancient
game of intrigues around
the collapsible table
he eats a pomegranate
that no one else wants to trade

it has to be the worst fruit ever

fuse angels with oranges

and suddenly, i start talking to
a flamingo who has an
Australian accent

it can be assumed that
she wasn't always
a bag-lady transplanted
because her wing flesh seems to
fuse angels with oranges

she makes a bleak living
managing a private menangerie
but she is not human
and could be replaced with a
robot at any moment

come clean

come clean
did you ever
pierce yourself
in the mexican aisle

at two in the morning
i didn't know
they were
starting to group

on the pontoon boat
i was almost
on my knees
running

every two minutes
to be a nice guy
who's calling you
to grab your ankles

in the bathroom
i'm gonna make
money off you
now

you want me to
weight your body
and i'm going
he cannot have you too

idealists on the funeral train

after trying to be positive about the
notion of a man born of polite language
a woman exclaims that
historical consciousness won't
help rabbits reproduce

a girl with a note cannot
resist ending each paragraph with
culturally active theory that
controls elements of society
with no explained function

prosititues and subordinate heroes are like
two issues on adjacent shelves
lovely but the first chapter says
a great deal about mobilizing
a trickle-down faith in a dominant world

the leading disciple owns the idealists
and comes into a room clueless
he is interesting to the people who
took the funeral train
he will be cemented by achieved gain
in the agenda among the classes

(Here's a tip never used: a man who is ignorant of the
damage to the entire share draws the other course of events
to his cheek and gives life where it is likely to be forgotten)

Longer than expected...

The second printing of "Idealists on the Funeral Train" by Trisha Castillo is now available from Sweet Lozey Press. Copies may be purchased for $5.00 each here:

http://www.sweetlozey.etsy.com/

Bhutanese Slam Poets and a Purple Cow

My friend's six-year-old daughter, Lilly, has an extraordinary gift for naming things. I was two days away from printing my first chapbook and still had no imprint. I called Lilly to ask her what I should name by small press. Her reply was, "You should call it 'Lillian is beautiful and I am going to buy her presents.'" It dawned on me that she may not actually know what a small press is and that I would have to give her something concrete to name. So, I asked her to name the purple cow. Her response was that I should name the cow "Lozey-day." I shortened it to "Lozey," and did an internet search to see if I could find any references to the word. This is what I found...

"Lozey is the battle of wits and words through poetry and verse between opponents on subjects of love and challenge, or difference of opinion, where the parties involved use metaphors and symbols to outdo one another until a winner or a draw is declared. It was a form of entertainment celebrated, admired and respected greatly and widely in Bhutan."

Did I mention the kid is brilliant?

purple cow, small poetry press --- Bhutanese yak herder slam poetry

sounded good to me.

And this concludes the origin story of Sweet Lozey.

She really is a sweet cow.

Currently Under Construction

Expect to see something here in the early part of July.